"
"Oh, as to that," returned Peterkin, "I'll blow you up yet, if you wish
it; only it would be of no use if I did, for you're a perfect mule!"
As it was now getting dark we lighted our candle, and placing it in a
holder made of two crossing branches, inside of our bower, we seated
ourselves on our leafy beds and began to work.
"I intend to appropriate the bow for my own use," said Jack, chipping
the piece of wood he had brought with his axe. "I used to be a pretty
fair shot once. But what's that you're doing?" he added, looking at
Peterkin, who had drawn the end of a long pole into the tent, and was
endeavouring to fit a small piece of the hoop-iron to the end of it.
"I'm going to enlist into the Lancers," answered Peterkin. "You see,
Jack, I find the club rather an unwieldy instrument for my delicately
formed muscles, and I flatter myself I shall do more execution with a
spear."
"Well, if length constitutes power," said Jack, "you'll certainly be
invincible."
The pole which Peterkin had cut was full twelve feet long, being a very
strong but light and tough young tree, which merely required thinning
at the butt to be a serviceable weapon.
"That's a very good idea," said I.
"Which--this?" inquired Peterkin, pointing to the spear.
"Yes," I replied.
"Humph!" said he; "you'd find it a pretty tough and matter-of-fact idea
if you had it stuck through your gizzard, old boy!"
"I mean the idea of making it is a good one," said I, laughing.
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